


That Pirate AU for Cary and Pops [Working Title]

by Jack DeWitt (lemonfizzies)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Blood and Injury, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Hostage Situations, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Multi, Period Typical Bigotry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:02:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26524903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemonfizzies/pseuds/Jack%20DeWitt
Summary: Draft Zero of a Pirate!AU for my most dysfunctional OC pairing ever. I'm tired of emailing everybody the same PDF 14 times so here it is now i only gotta drop the links to this thingCary's a necromancer by birth in a world where magic is only gifted to mortals through pacts with Lords and Ladies -- powerful beings not of this world. Cary's abducted, held for ransom, and then everything goes screwy when he's revealed to be a magic user.Poppy's the guy who kidnapped Cary, as per usual, and also the guy he falls for, as per usual. He's emotionally unstable, as per usual, and slightly more violent than in most iterations.This is just an excuse to write smut and Cary gets his ass beat at every opportunity (including emotionally). There will be zombies.





	That Pirate AU for Cary and Pops [Working Title]

**Author's Note:**

> tags will be updated as i post new chapters! each one's gonna have a leetle list on top showing what trigger warnings are applicable to the specific chapter. there's gonna be the mega list at the top of the work too, obviously!

"If I didnt know better, i'd say ya weren't even tryna get back home ta Mommy in one piece." Clemency sneers. if the threat cuts too close for comfort, thats the point; she's had enough of the noble-born brat mouthing off.

"If i didn't know better, i'd say you're making a lot of threats for--" Cary starts to spit back a scathing retort before Clemency's hand shoots to her hip. With a flourish, her blunderbuss is pressed right against his throat. He instantly douses the fire and fury in his tone, eyes wide and pleading as he tries to catch Poppy's eye behind her. Poppy is refusing to look at him.

"Go ahead, lass, tell me how many threats I made. Tell me how many times --" Clemency cocks the hammer back, demanding his full attention, "--I held this to ya before today."

Cary is too afraid to speak, at least not at first. When he at last opens his mouth, he emits a pitiful squeak. The crack of a voice too terrified to be properly warped into words. Clemency, triumphant, laughs. Poppy shifts but finds no relief from the weight of shame.

"Oh, where'd it go? There was fire in ya eyes, just now. Didja think I wouldnt 'ave a nice long talk with me crewman about interferin' with our little chats again?"

Cary's only hope flickers out like a candle in a seastorm gale. Clemency sees it and keeps pressing his wounded ego.

"Savecki's a right proper gentleman, ya know, so gentle with the ladies. Woman to woman, you'll find i'm not quite so forgiving." Clemency holsters the gun, her point made.

Cary flushes, all too aware of the way the ropes cut into his ample chest. He doesn't let it show, quickly averting his gaze to the wooden deck beneath him. To his once-decadent gown now stained with grime and oil. That's how it always went, wasn't it? Too wide, too soft, with a voice too high-pitched to offset his long hair. No sharp jaw, no stubble, no taller than most women. His wrists slim, dainty...dainty enough to rub each other raw in the bonds.

"Nah-ah-ah," Clemency tuts, reveling in her victory. At last, she finally tames the wild mare. "I'll be expectin' an apology from ya."

The whush of a saber unsheathed gives Cary only a moment's notice before the flat tip is pressed against his throat, bidding him raise his gaze to meet hers. Clemency is grinning, malicious and haughty, and...something else. Something Cary's only seen in the eyes of men sitting in his mother's wretched parlor. He reacts involuntarily, disgust and defiance curling his lip and he spits on the blade before he can catch himself. Clemency releases the pressure point from his chin and, by freak accident of timing, Cary doesn't track the glint of sunlight on the saber. He's too busy twisting his skin raw in the bonds, trying to keep his shoulders still, with his gaze locked on Clemency's in a show of sustained defiance. Daring her to lose her temper yet again.

Clemency is silent and gives him no warning. Not one muscle of her body twitches, save her wrist, effortlessly flicking the saber to slash him up, across the face, from below. A deep slice runs from the left corner of his jaw, straight through his right nostril and clefting his lip. The humid fog of the mid-afternoon hangs heavy with brine.

One heartbeat passes in silence. Two. Now three. Cary reacts too late, finally recognizing the warm taste of copper-tang blood on his teeth. He gives a strangled gasp, a half-hearted yelp, and hopes it will be enough. He tears his gaze away from Clemency's. Fixates on the lace-and-tulle detailing of his skirt. letting hair fall forward to obscure his face. To obscure the extent of the damage, hopefully.

Clemency and Poppy both stand stock-still rigid as the grave and twice as serious. Refusing to accept the truth while their guts roil and churn with the revelation. Poppy glances to his captain, who's staring at the still-warm slick of blood dripping from her saber. Pouring from the blade, unbroken, in a stream. The brat should be drenched from neck to nose, and begging for the mercy of rum (a mercy Clemency would've taken no small pleasure in denying). Cary hadn't so much as spilt a drop from behind his hair. No evidence of harm splattered his finery.

"Damned witch." Clemency finds her voice at long last. Her voice is low, laced with a dangerous cocktail of fear and disdain. For the first time since being forced onto the boat, Cary shrinks. If not for the bonds, he might curl into himself entirely.

"Ma'am, please." He doesn't know what part of him is supposed to be broken. There was blood on his teeth but where from? He can't say. His voice is strained, cracked from the hellfire of swallowed panic. "I-I should never have asked Poppy --"

He chokes on his own tongue when Clemency grabs him by the hair, catching a snarl halfway out his throat. The gargbled, guttural sound he makes is inhuman, and does nothing to help his case as she yanks his head back. Something pops at the base of his neck. His view of the summer sky blurs hazy and black around the edges. He hisses, then sucks air through teeth in a paltry attempt to hide it. Clemency knows she did more than scratch the brat, yet a scratch is all that remains. Not even a scar. Only blood, smeared across unblemished teeth.

"Listen well, ya blighted wench. I'll not have me crewman bewitched by a she-devil!" She yanks his head back further, exposing the smooth, quivering flesh of his neck to the sky. Pain shoots through his spine and he fights back a whimper. His breath comes ragged and sharp. He breathes through his nose to hide it. "Speak his name again and i'll keelhaul ya."

The revelation leaves Clemency without the reassurance of safety, chasing the bright spark of reason from her eyes. Witches aren't worth the shackles used to capture them, an omen of death and misfortune upon whoever might cross their path. No wonder Her Ladyship was refusing to pay the ransom. Her daughter could either join a circus or a brothel. Her weight in gold was not exactly a wise investment.

"Yer worth naught'n a pittance." Clemency says, finally releasing Cary. He jerks forward, too fast, too eager to breathe and stretch out the twinge. His neck cracks loud enough for Clemency to wince. Tears slip past the outer corners of Cary's eyes and he coughs with a rattle into the open air between him and Clemency.

"Only Mother knows." Cary blurts out, anger and indignance pitching and rolling through his blood. Tinting his cheeks. "You can still fetch a price for me elsewhere."

His last-ditch effort to get out of this alive. He knows what happens to expendable cargo on a ship like this. Clemency is visibly offended by the suggestion.

"I'm no slave-trader."

"Well, I'm no slave!"

Clemency scoffs, disgusted by the clear air of desperation from Cary. She glances to Poppy, leaning on the far side of the cracked canon and failing to mask his discomfort.

"Ya get a last meal, I guess." Clemency sighs heavily, wishing she could sheath her sword. She'd have to clean it before all the blood dried. In this heat, it wouldn't take much longer.

Cary is shocked into silence. No protest, no glare, no scowl. No snappy retort. Poppy perks up from his position, incredulous.

"Captain?"

"Savecki, I told ya about interruptin' me conversations with the lass."

"I'm not killing her." Poppy states, earnest and matter-of-fact. He hardly registers the reprimand he's been dealt.

Clemency narrows her eyes at him. She rests her free hand on her holster, tapping the ornately decorated leather as she sizes him up.

"Don't recall askin' ya to."

"Good."

Something about the way Poppy returns to staring out at the horizon troubles Clemency. The girl tied to the cannon's base smiles, quietly, to herself. It is not meant for Clemency to see. Too close to the unthinkable swirls through Clemency's mind.

"Sunset, sunrise, then she's gone." Clemency announces, keeping the quaver out of her voice but only just. "Overboard. Outta my hair, live or die it's up to her."

Cary sombers. The smile is wiped off his face in an instant. The ropes are too tight, suddenly, and the wood of the deck too rough. Sweat trickles down his face, hot and sticky. The light off the saber blade, doused as it is by blood, burns his eyes when it flashes in the sun.

"Might as well shoot her." Poppy points out. Not angry or scared or sad. Just...matter of fact. Cary's heart is pounding in his ears. The ensuing conversation floats past him, like a dream.

"I ain't wastin' no bullet on a witch, Savecki. Unless yer gonna do the honors."

"No, Captain, I will not."

"Then she'll drown. No help from ya."

"Gonna keep her on the cannon? Pressure would get her before the lack of air. Over quicker for her. And less dead weight for us."

"Ya gonna push it over?"

"No, Captain, I will not."

"Then she'll suffer. No help from ya."

"Captain, I --"

"Ya already said it, Savecki, can't change it now. I ain't havin' no crewman who goes back on his word."

Clemency turns on her heel and makes for the Captain's quarters, intent on polishing her weapon. Poppy stays leaning on the cannon, in silence. Cary counts the runs along his skirt, where the lace was hiding streaks of too-thin thread.

"You won't die." Poppy says, eyes fixed on the horizon. It's not a question but it hangs between them in need of reply.

Cary remembers the tub. Pink marble. He remembers the milk and honey soap. He remembers his mother's hands combing through his wet hair, her delicate voice lilting light and smooth; her voice was almost holy in the high-ceilinged bathroom. He remembers how much higher the ceiling looked after lying on his back.

Tears stream down his cheeks without his consent. He sits, defeated and aching, as his tears stain the gown where his treacherous blood did not. The silence breaks with his shuddering gasps for breath, his chest heaving against the ropes. For all his effort, the weight never leaves him. Poppy pushes himself off the cracked cannon, languid in the late afternoon heat. Matter of fact, as always.

"If I tied you to it, she might let you sleep in a bed."

Cary's gasps turn to sobs and he crumples in on himself, crushed under the full weight of awareness. He is going to drown again but, this time, there will be no pink marble lip tub against which to brace. Just the roiling green depths of the sea, all the way down, to swallow him whole.

**Author's Note:**

> there's gonna be a summary at the bottom just like this every chapter in case someone needs to skip but still wants plot relevant details :)


End file.
